Whispering Ashes: A New Novel Based on Characters from Point of the Circle

By Leona Gibbs

The year is 1861--

They say time heals all wounds. Those who believe that have obviously never been wounded, or they would realize wounds hibernate. No one is more aware of this than Chief Miles Johnson, a widower, whose wife was tragically killed. When he receives an anonymous letter informing him his wife was murdered, he becomes obsessed to discover the identify of the author. With the help of friends and colleagues, his search begins. If, in the process, new wounds are created, or old ones are opened, so be it. Chief Johnson is determined to uncover the truth about his lost love and attain justice.

Leona Gibbs lives with her husband on the central Oregon coast. Visit her online at
www.LeonaGibbs.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 3, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450272377

Leona Gibbs

Author of 1800's fictional adventure/mystery novels. Living on the Oregon Coast with her husband she enjoys nature and is an animal lover. Member of the ASPCA and Humane Society.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgements

Characters

The Letter

Lisle Rose

Franco

Hans and Delda

Recant and Reunion

The Funeral

Coming Together

The Assault

The Conversations

Encounters

The Discovery

Time and Money

The Contract

Portsmouth

Closure

The Collaboration

Gossip

Meetings

A Safe Place

Regression

Mrs. Macbeth

The JED

The Document

Scorned

Confrontation

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Jill van Hees, for sharing her much-needed expertise.

Romie Turner, for the encouragement she always gives me.

Babe Teasley, a friend in the garden of life.

Jerri Wallis, friend and artist, for painting the cover of the novel.

Characters

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The Letter

He could feel the beads of moisture roll down his face. Some were the result of falling rain and others from tension and fear. Holding tightly to the thin ledge of a building, he was certain he was going to fall to his death, or worse, survive the fall, but wish that he had died. A section of the wooden ledge he once stood on had broken away, leaving him with no viable support. The wind and stinging rain assaulting his face and hands made it more difficult to sustain his grip. For a second, he contemplated making a deal with the Lord if only He would help him out of the predicament he was in. He thought of his former criminal partner, Patrick Stow, who departed for the West Coast several years before. Stow was probably safe, happy, and married with a family of his own. His thoughts were interrupted by his young accomplice who safely climbed to the roof. Both men were considered unsavory characters. For the past year, they had been criminal partners. On this night, hired to steal documents from a beautiful home, they encountered difficulty in escaping. Now, one of them was in serious trouble.

Spiny, I can’t pull myself up.

Hold on, Arty! I’m taking off my belt and I’ll help you. The response came from his partner, Archibald Sawyer, also known as Spiny.

In the next moment, it was too late. Arthur Kelso, who everyone knew as Arty, lost his grip and fell onto the wet cobblestone street below. He never uttered a sound when falling, and his partner could do nothing but watch and hear the muffled impact. Arty, seriously injured, but conscious, saw Spiny looking down at him then quickly vanish between the tall buildings. Taking a painful breath, Arty wondered if he was on the way to help him, or had decided to save himself and simply left him to go to the devil. If he had been left, it would have served him right for being such a fool. He was not a young man anymore and had no business thinking he was. He was a victim of his own vices; women of little virtue, strong drink and cards. He was not lucky with any of them. A moment later, his question was answered when his partner knelt by his side.

I thought you decided to leave me here, Arty gasped.

Don’t talk crazy. We have to get out of here before anyone sees us. Do you think you can walk to your apartment? Spiny didn’t see any obviously broken bones, but that didn’t mean anything. He knew Arty could be injured internally.

Do we have a choice? Arty panted.

Not really. He placed his arms under his partner and helped him to his feet. This was accomplished with a great deal of effort since the man was unable to help himself, and obviously in a great deal of pain. They managed to reach the small apartment. It was little more than a hovel, but it contained everything needed to sustain his lifestyle.

Take it easy and stay in bed. You know that I have to leave now, but I’ll be back in the morning.

I won’t see the morning sunrise…I can feel I’m busted up real good inside. I need you to do something for me.

If I can.

Get O’Connor for me.

Father O’Connor? Spiny questioned.

Yeah.

You want me to bring him here?

I do.

Come on, Arty. It’s a little late in our lives for that, isn’t it? He looked at the injured man, and giving him an odd look, turned and walked out of the small apartment. Arty could only watch him leave. This time he was certain that his first assessment of his situation was right…he would be left to go to the devil.

In the mind of at least one man, Valda Bay was one of the most beautiful places on earth. Miles Johnson sat in his favorite chair, smoking a cigar, and looking out, marveled at the scene before him. A vast, blue ocean waited anxiously to merge with the quick-flowing water from a nearby river. At the point they merged, small white caps would appear and a roaring noise that often lulled him to sleep could be clearly heard. Tall fir trees surrounded his cabin and sea birds could be seen flying in the distance. The sky was bright and deep blue with a few puffy clouds drifting overhead. Miles knew it would get better in the next few months. It was late spring and soon Mother Nature would usher in his beloved summer. It had taken years of hard work for him to be able to sit on his porch, which he built onto the cabin, and enjoy moments such as this one. The cabin he bought and repaired had been a labor of love. The wooden floors were replaced and sanded down until they were even and smooth. Rich-colored stains added a touch of warmth and elegance. He enlarged the windows to allow more light to enter and also provide him with a view of the ocean. When the fireplace was rebuilt, he added rock for décor, and increased the size of the hearth to produce more warmth. A cedar wood mantel, hand-carved with Pacific Northwest wildlife, rested above the rustic fireplace and completed the look. The kitchen was modernized with a new, wood-burning stove and pump. The two spare bedrooms were adequate for the occasional guests, but the master bedroom was large, with a fireplace in the corner. Every room had beautiful furniture he had made, and was decorated with rugs and curtains to match. He remembered his wife told him that rugs, curtains, and bedding should complement each other, so he hired a local lady to make those items for him. The cabin was pretty. The only thing that could have made it better was if his wife had been sitting next to him. He sighed and took another puff from his cigar before deciding to open his mail. He put his cigar in the ashtray and placed the daily newspaper aside. There was a letter addressed to him from someone he did not know. It was from New Hampshire. He read it quickly, and a flood of thoughts and emotions coursed through his body—anger, curiosity, disbelief and ultimately, a profound feeling of loss. He wondered if the contents could be true, especially after he read the letter again. However, the third time around, he forced himself to exam it with his experienced eyes. He noticed several things he missed in the previous readings.

April 17th, 1851

Mr. Johnson,

We have never met. For many years, I have wanted to tell you about your wife’s death. I deeply regret that she was murdered because of what we did. On the night she died, we went to your home and rerouted the gas connection that led to the kitchen. We did this knowing it would create an explosion. I know you can never forgive me, but I have always prayed that God, through his loving mercy, will grant me forgiveness.

A.

He made mental notes while he studied the letter. He began with the most obvious thing—the date stamp. It showed him it was mailed recently and from which city. The stamp clearly showed it came from Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Then he noticed the date on the letter. It didn’t match the date on the envelope by several years; that struck him as terribly odd. The paper was not expensive and could be purchased anywhere. The handwriting was neat, evenly spaced, and all letters were correctly formed, indicating some kind of professional training or schooling. The way it was addressed indicated that whoever wrote it did not know to address him as Chief Johnson, which was his proper title. It also indicated that more than one person was involved—actually three, by current count. First, there was the person who wrote the letter. Then, there was the person who was with the individual who made the mistake. This was obvious because in the body of the letter, it clearly stated that we made a mistake. The third was the clerk who mailed the letter. It was possible that the mail clerk could have information about who sent it and from where. The last thing Miles noticed was the religious reference. It was obvious the person making this confession had some type of a religious background, and feared the wrath of God. He put the letter down and walked up and down on his porch for several minutes. He was thinking a million thoughts, the least of which was the fact that this individual was right to fear something much greater than either of them. However, if the murderer had not already met his maker, he would be advised to fear Miles Johnson. He stopped pacing long enough to remember that his wife, Lisle Rose, would not want him to feel hatred toward others or become vindictive. He wanted to be like her, but it wasn’t in his nature to be as benevolent as she was. He never considered himself mean-spirited, just a man with a tremendous sense of right and wrong. He lived his life by a code of decency that guided his very existence. His eyes moistened when thoughts of her, and of a life they once happily shared, came rushing back.

He was twenty-four years old when he first saw her. It was three weeks before Christmas and people were busy with the usual festivities—shopping, attending parties, and making plans to visit relatives in the countyside. The City was aglow with decorations and the snow which pelted the countryside was even more alluring to those who planned to travel by a horse-drawn sled. He remembered how hurried he was on the snowy day he walked past a boutique on the way to join some friends for lunch. Fortune smiled on him that day when one of three ladies walking together accidentally bumped into him, just as they were leaving a boutique.

Pardon me, ladies, he quickly said. Miles immediately did the gentlemanly thing by apologizing despite knowing he was not the one at fault. A woman with pleasant features and pretty brown eyes appeared somewhat startled, because she was at fault for carelessly creating the unwanted attention. Society demanded that a gentleman accept the responsibility for any unpleasantness or embarrassment created by a lady. He removed his out of respect prior to addressing the women. The snow was falling heavily and huge flakes quickly covered his head. He politely waited for one of them to acknowledge his apology. It took only a few seconds before he was acknowledged.

We are not injured and your apology is accepted. Good day to you, sir, a lady replied. He noticed the lady had thickly-lashed, big, grey eyes, and long, light-brown hair. When she smiled at him, he was captivated by her. He smiled in return, very aware of how pretty she was. She was not who a man would consider beautiful, but there was something about her he found appealing. He wished he could think of an appropriate way to detain her, so he might at least learn her name. The ladies resumed walking down the sidewalk. He stood watching her walk away when a thought came to him. He knew she had just walked out of a boutique, so perhaps if he went inside, he could learn her name. All thoughts of meeting his friends for lunch were forgotten. He did not think the plan through and what sounded to him like a good idea in theory, was in reality, an embarrassing mistake. He entered the shop without noticing the name and closed the door behind him. He was unfavorably surprised immediately upon entering.

May I help you? a gray-haired lady wearing a brightly-colored dress addressed him.

No, no, thank you…I beg your pardon…good afternoon, Miles replied as he quickly fumbled for the doorknob. He had entered a boutique that catered to ladies in every sense of the word. The displays showed ladies corsets, hosiery and garters, pantaloons, gloves and lacy parasols. There was a large selection of shoes, fans and jewelry boxes. One wall was devoted to hats with beads and feathers. The glass counter had a large display of every imaginable brush for hair and clothes. On the other side of the room, small, lace-covered tables displayed so many small bottles of fragrances and bath salts, it overwhelmed his senses. All the ladies stopped shopping and turned to look at him. It was obvious he was terribly out of place. He felt like the biggest fool imaginable.

Not at all. I know my boutique is a little busy right now, but if you will permit me, I’d consider it a pleasure to help you in your selection of a gift for your mother or perhaps your wife. Of course, your gift may be for a young lady such as the one to whom you were speaking. In any event, we do have a nice assortment of fine handkerchiefs and perfumes. She knowingly smiled at him. For reasons unknown to him, she helped put him at ease.

Yes. That would be very nice because I did have a gift for a young lady in mind. He mentally thanked her for sensing his discomfort. He could have kissed her knobby old feet.

Is there anything in particular you had in mind?

I’d like to look at a handkerchief such as the one you just mentioned.

I’ll be just one moment. She took her time in getting the items. The shop patrons, now convinced that he was not an unsavory character, but rather a decent young man buying something nice for his lady, resumed talking and shopping.

This handkerchief is made from fine material. The lace is very delicate and the latest fashion statement is to scent it lightly with a French fragrance. It’s more pleasing than a summer day. I can say from my vast experience that any lady would love to have it. As a matter of fact, Miss Lisle Cagle made a delightful comment about it, just as she was leaving. She gave him the opportunity he needed to learn about the young woman. Now it was up to him to pursue her lead. She had seen the exchange outside and how he reacted to Miss Cagle. The older lady also knew that in all probability, Miss Cagle was the reason he had come into her shop. She was old, but she wasn’t blind or deaf, at least not yet.

Miss Cagle? Miles could not believe his good luck. He had the name of at least one of the ladies. If it wasn’t the name of his grey-eyed angel, he could at least learn it later.

Yes, I believe you spoke with her just before entering the boutique. She’s a delight and so very gracious, not to mention musically talented. Her father, Dr. Harlan Cagle, sent her to New York where she studied classical music. She only recently returned home. She pretended to straighten out the items, giving him time to think about what she said.

Music? Miles repeated stupidly. He looked at the price of the handkerchief. It cost a little over one dollar—very expensive; but, he decided to purchase it anyway. He had learned her name and even a little more. Some things were worth more than money.

Yes, that is what I said…music. The woman was beginning to think he was going to be a hopeless case. How could such a nice-looking young man be so…so…she was trying to think of an appropriate word. When he finally spoke, she was relieved that she would not have to offer him additional help. He had grasped her hints quite well.

I do believe I’m about to become a great admirer of classical music. With that revelation just disclosed, will you please scent the handkerchief with the French fragrance Miss Cagle was so fond of?

I’d be pleased to. Would you like it gift wrapped? She smiled and realized he was probably weighing his options. The wrapping was a little more money and the gift was costly. She had guessed correctly. Buying such an expensive gift right now was not in his plans. He didn’t make much money as a furniture maker, but he still managed to adequately provide for his needs. Payday was still a week away, and he had only enough money with him to pay for today’s luncheon and a leather tool belt which he had taken to be repaired, but still owed the blacksmith for. The rent on his apartment was not due for two weeks and he had enough dry goods left to prepare meals at home. This purchase was going to be possible if he was willing to sacrifice a little. There would be no choice but to take a little money out of his bank account to financially survive the rest of the week. He could also skimp a little on his lunches which usually cost him about twenty-five cents a day. The decision to remain on such a strict budget was difficult, but necessary, if he hoped to start his own business. It was important to save as much as he could, since it was more than possible he would be able to purchase the furniture store where he was now employed. The lady was worth any sacrifice he would have to make.

Yes, thank you. He wondered if the fragrance was an additional cost. He hoped not or he could be facing an embarrassing situation.

I happen to know that Miss Cagle will be playing the piano at the dedication of the Terrace Hills Library Wing that will be opening tomorrow night. The dedication is open to the public so if you haven’t any plans, it should be a nice, entertaining evening. She knew that Miles was listening to her every word. Oh, forgive me for chatting away; I just love music and I did promise Mr. Winthrop, the musical director of the program, I would help inform people about the event. She proceeded to scent the handkerchief. Sir, I have scented your gift free of charge. Please accept this as my gift to you for shopping at my boutique. I hope you will consider shopping here again when you require another gift.

Thank you. It is very generous and kind of you. It was as if she had read his mind. He looked at her closely as she worked for anything unnatural or unusual about her; no, there was nothing odd that he could see. She was just an older lady.

It may be too late for a Christmas presentation, but February may offer a traditional opportunity. If you keep it wrapped and place it in a tightly-sealed tin, it will retain the fragrance. She wondered how he was going to properly be introduced to Miss Cagle. She could surmise when a gentleman wished to begin a courtship, but was rarely privileged to know what happened.

Thank you. I may have to do that.

Please, feel free to come back, and let me know what you thought of the entertainment at the library. She smiled at him and glanced briefly at the bottles of fragrance. Miles tipped his hat and this time, when she looked up, he gave her a knowing and thankful smile.

He left the boutique thinking about what she had said. Several weeks later he learned all he could about Dr. Cagle and his daughter. He arranged to be properly introduced, and later was able to call upon Miss Cagle. He presented her with the handkerchief and a small box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day. Two years later, he asked for her hand in marriage. To his delight, she gladly accepted him, but only after he spoke with her father and properly requested permission. The Cagles delighted in their daughter’s choice of husband.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear someone calling his name. His thoughts had been interrupted by the voice of a youngster who routinely delivered messages and telegrams. He was calling Chief Johnson’s name repeatedly. Miles quickly wiped his eyes and cleared his throat before greeting him.

Son, what brings you to my place?

Hello, Chief. Mr. Foster asked me to tell you that your order of Ralstino cigars has arrived. He says you might consider picking them up quickly, because he’s tempted to open the box and enjoy one. I think he was just teasing, he quickly offered.

I’m certain that he was. Thank you for bringing me the message. Here is a little something for your time. Miles reached into his vest pocket and flipped the boy a dime, which he easily caught.

Thank you. I best be on my way because I have several telegrams to deliver. Good day to you. Chief Johnson watched him move quickly away, full of energy, as only the young can be.

Three hours after the boy left, Miles decided to go to Foster’s Mercantile. He smiled when he thought of the simple name the store had. It was a far cry from the mercantile that had at one time been owned by the late Mr. Rudolph Nash. After Mr. Nash passed away, the store was purchased by investors. This afforded James Foster the opportunity to purchase the property. He completely remodeled the place, making it larger, modern, and much better stocked. He had a good selection of anything a person might need. He also had a generous supply of things that he considered items people might just want. He was a smart businessman, well respected in the community, and Miles liked James Foster and his work ethic. Since Miles didn’t live very far from the town, he decided that the walk would do him good. Reaching for his light coat and hat, he departed for the store. He would pick up his cigars and inquire about the next shipment of goods scheduled to depart for the East Coast. Everyone knew that Erik Johansson Foster, James Foster’s stepson, often sailed to various ports, a good number of which were located in the eastern part of the United States. He arrived at the mercantile with the letter still heavy on his mind. Mr. James Foster, the owner of the store, warmly greeted him as he entered.

Good to see you, Chief. I expect you are here to pick up your cigars?

I sure am. I’ve been waiting for that order to arrive for nearly two months, he replied.

It’s a case of supply and demand. The Ralstino cigar is in high demand and the greater portion is shipped to the finer stores back East. I’m lucky to get an order filled. I’ve concluded I only get a shipment here because the owners of the cigar company once lived in our little town.

I’m inclined to think it might be more than that. You have a good reputation in the business community and not just in Valda Bay. Mr. Foster, speaking of other business locations, I have a need to inquire about something that directly concerns your business. It’s personal in nature, but I’m compelled to seek your help.

In that case, let’s step into my office and talk undisturbed there. He went around the counter and took off his shopkeeper’s apron. Miles thought him wearing the apron was such a down-to-earth thing to do, especially since the man was one of the wealthiest people in the world. He was one of three people who found the famous Rip Tide Treasure, considered by many experts to be priceless. It was common knowledge the man was worth millions of dollars. Still, he could be found working in his store several days a week. He remained true to who he was and remained unchanged. Miles admired and respected the man. His donations to various charities were considerable and despite wanting no publicity for doing so, everyone knew that he made possible a great many of the community’s improvements. They entered his well-organized office, and each took a seat after James closed the door behind them. In typical Foster fashion, he came right to the point.

How can I help you?

I know it’s going to sound odd, but I need to know if you have any business connections on the East Coast.

I do. My oldest son takes orders of cut lumber, usually redwood cedar, by ship to various locations and ports. In fact, he’s scheduled to depart next month. By then, the seas will be calmer, not that it matters to him. James was curious, but he knew Chief Johnson and therefore, respected his need to ask him questions. He already knew it was of a personal nature.

I have a great need to go to the East Coast. I was wondering if I could pay for passage and leave with the ship when it departs.

Chief, I have no objection on a personal level. But, for insurance purposes, it’s illegal for me to take anyone except the designated crew. The JED is registered as a commercial vessel owned by the Company. I don’t have a passenger permit for it.

Well, I had to ask. I appreciate your time and keeping my confidence. Chief Johnson stood up and extended his hand in parting. James Foster gladly took it and shook his hand.

Wait a moment. I am the owner of this company, and I will make an exception. When do you want to leave? James Foster remembered all the times that Chief Johnson had helped his wife, Karin. He had offered his professional help when they were not the rich couple they were now. The Chief had afforded Karin his personal protection, and secured her fortune in jewels and gold when it was first discovered. That discovery was known as the famous Rip Tide Treasure. It was that thought that made Mr. Foster reconsider the request before him. He could not, in good conscience, turn down the man who had been such an important part of their lives.

Now, Mr. Foster, you forget that I’m a retired magistrate. I can’t let you do anything that would compromise your situation. I appreciate your offer more than you know. Chief Johnson sincerely appreciated the risk that James was willing to take. Miles knew that if the cargo was inspected upon arrival, and he was discovered as a passenger, the fines would be stiff and the Company would receive a public reprimand. It would be humiliating at the very least. Powerful men always had enemies.

Then I’m very sorry that I couldn’t help you, James replied earnestly.

It goes without saying that I know if there had been any way possible, you would have. Now all I have left to do is find a decent place to stay while I’m in Portsmouth.

Well, at least I can help you with that. The Royal Hotel is a very nice place. It’s clean, not very pricey, and located in a good part of town.

Is that hotel located within the city limits?

It is. I’ve stayed there before Erik was old enough to sail alone and conduct business transactions. These days, the ship has all he requires on board so he rarely lodges anyplace else.

You have been a great deal of help to me, Mr. Foster; thank you. I have some things to do before I leave, so I best be on my way. Both men stood up and left the office.

Will you need anything before you go? I can have my delivery man drop it off at your home. James and the Chief walked toward the